


Just So That We Can Say We Tried

by DinosaurGummies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Jack Kline, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Feral Behavior, Flashbacks, Foiled Confessions, Grief/Mourning, Guilty Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Quote: Y yo a ti Cas | Me too (Supernatural), Sam Puts Two And Two Together, jack brings cas back, no beta we get sucked into turbohell like men, on the part of the author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27723950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurGummies/pseuds/DinosaurGummies
Summary: Cas' death shatters Dean. When pressed, he opens up to Sam about his grief and his guilt... but their final conversation is his secret to keep, and he'll take it to a lonely grave.At least, that's what he thinks, when he's licking his wounds in the bunker, no plan and no hope.Fortunately for him, it's now how his story ends.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	1. I Won't Tell You No

**Author's Note:**

> How are we doing, el nación Destiel? I thought I would finish my first fix-it fic before I wrote another and then Y yo a ti happened and I went FULLY feral so... have the version where Dean tells Cas he loves him, only to lose him (only to get him back, eventually)
> 
> Also my apologies because the first chapter is very very short but I wanted to get it up as fast as possible and I have not been the fastest writer this november.

“Do you want to talk?” Sam finally asks. They’ve been sitting alone in silence… Dean doesn’t know how long.

He doesn’t know where Jack’s laying low, either. He knows he hasn’t had nearly enough to drink, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t survive enough alcohol to numb this pain. He’s crawled as far into the bottle as it’s possible to crawl back out of.

“I really don’t.”

“You’ve barely said two words about Cas… Last time we lost him, you were…”

“I can’t, Sam. It’s like you said, I-- I can’t right now. Because once I start, that’s all I’m gonna be. And I can’t-- I couldn’t… Not in front of Jack.”

Sam nods. “I get it. I do.”

“I killed him, Sammy.” His voice wavers, quiet under the sniffling, the shuddering of his breaths, and he can’t say anything without falling apart, but he can’t hold himself together any longer, either. 

“He took a hit for you, it’s not the same--”

“No. It is. Because I knew… I knew what was… We didn’t have time for anything else, we had one shitty plan and he told me… he told me. And I knew I couldn’t… if I stopped him, we would both die, I would still have to watch him die. And I knew…” He gulps down air, his shoulders shaking. “I knew what he wanted. Summon the empty at the right moment, take Billie with him. Spare me, so one of us could make it back to you and Jack to try and save the world. He knew it was a suicide run the whole time… I just-- I don’t know. A part of me hoped… hoped if I could make it back we both would. I think he knew when he said he’d go with me that he… A part of him knew. Maybe not what would happen, but-- knew that he’d die for me, at least.”

“Dean…”

“I… helped. Summon it. Maybe I couldn’t have stopped him, maybe it would’ve been enough, but I don’t know that. I just know…”

_Cas’ confession hung between them a moment, and Dean felt like a car flipped onto its roof, wheels spinning in the air. Loved him,_ loved _him, a human love, the kind he’d always told himself he was never going to get and never going to deserve. It was in his voice, in his eyes, clear as a fucking_ bell _, so how had Dean gone so long believing it was impossible? Believing he couldn’t_ feel _?_

_Two fears gripped his heart, squeezing down tighter than Death herself-- one, that unburdening himself would be enough to seal the bargain Cas had made, that he could fight all he wanted and not be able to keep him now. That Cas was reaching out knowing enough of Dean’s heart to know the answer-- to know he was loved, that there was just all this other shit keeping them apart, but acknowledging that they both felt it was all he needed to be happy now. Two, that he needed to hear it, and Dean would have to say it to him._

_And he did have to say it. Because if Cas_ didn’t _know, didn’t he deserve to? To know that Dean didn’t see him as a weapon, either, that he saw him as something beautiful and worth loving in a world that liked to kick them when they were down? If he was happy enough to seal the deal either way, he owed it to him to tell him. He_ owed _it to him. And… if he wasn’t, if he needed this affirmation, the worst part was, Dean owed it to him anyway._

_Dean owed it to him to let him make the sacrifice, a sacrifice Cas was walking into with eyes wide open, a sacrifice that would enable one of them to get back to their_ family _, the people Cas loved, the people who still needed them and could keep one if not both of them, if Dean could just let Cas go._

_He’s never been good at letting go. Cas has never been good at goodbye._

_This one’s a real son of a bitch of a sucky goodbye in particular. There’s not enough_ time _._

_“Me too.” He took one shaky half-step forward then, another. “Cas… I’ve always--”_

_Under any other circumstances, he’d have killed to see that kind of joy, that kind of love, radiating off of his angel-- his own personal angel, his Cas, hadn’t he been from the start? Before either of them really knew it, hadn’t he been? The mark he’d left on Dean was visible, but the bond went both ways._

_He watched that happiness directed at him shift, the look of fear past Dean’s shoulder, the determination, and then he’d been flung out of the way as the Empty came for him, got just one long last lingering look of love as it took Cas away. For good._

_Damned, because of all the people on this crapsack world, Dean Winchester somehow had the power to make him_ happy _._

_And Dean had played his part, hadn’t he?_

_Dean had been the one to damn him._

“How did _you_ summon the Empty?” Sam’s brow furrows.

“He made a deal with it… traded his life for Jack’s. And all he had to do was be happy. Just for a _moment_ , truly, fully happy. And it’d come nab him.”

For a long moment, Sam says nothing, and Dean feels the weight of his stare. Doubtlessly tumbling over the very short list of possibilities here.

“What, he… he wasn’t happy before this, then?” He says at last, with a heavy note of sorrow.

“Not since he struck the deal. Doesn’t mean he’s never been-- Just… since then. Couldn’t let himself be, not really. Couldn’t… he couldn’t ask for anything to get too good. And every time he felt himself get too close, he’d have to remind himself of… of the bad shit, of something he’d lost or something he didn’t think he could have. God, can you imagine? Can you imagine getting to be a, a dad, and… loving your kid so much you’ll give your life for his, and… and you can’t even let him make you happy? Every time-- every time you teach him something new or give him something that makes his face light up, you gotta pinch yourself, remind yourself of the worst pain you ever felt or the worst thing that might happen, because otherwise some goo bitch ganks you and you don’t get to be there for that kid?”

“That’s Cas, though.” Sam leans over, reaches out, pats the knee he can reach before withdrawing again to leave Dean his space. “He was always ready to give. And to give something up.”

“Can you imagine…” He wipes at his face, has to take a long moment and several not-so-steadying breaths. “Can you imagine sitting next to someone, and… and loving that person, like, in big capital letters, loving that person… but you can’t say it. Because that would open the door just a crack, maybe a crack too wide. Sitting next to someone, and wondering, or even knowing they feel the same, but if you say it, you’re gone. And if you ask for love, that’s worse. Dangerous. I mean it’s one thing if you think, well there’s no point. ‘Cause _he_ could never-- But can you imagine? Sitting next to someone, and doing the things that make him happy, knowing you can’t have that feeling for a second… and it’s almost not enough, because when you really love someone, their happiness, you know, it’s yours, but the pain’s just enough to balance it out somehow, and you can smile and laugh with your family, because there’s a part of you that’s just… raw and bleeding with what you can’t let yourself have. It’d be worse, wouldn’t it? If you knew. If you knew you could… that you _could_ be happy ‘cause you built a family, only if you let yourself enjoy it you’d lose it. They’d lose you.”

“But he’d make that deal… he wouldn’t think about whether it would be hard, or painful. There’s no universe where Cas wouldn’t save Jack, that’s what I believe. And there’s no universe where he wouldn’t save any of us. I believe that. He was our best friend-- he was our brother. And what that meant to him… You and Cas are a lot alike.”

“Me and Cas?” Dean sniffs, looking up. “How d’you figure?”

“You’d both do anything, for family. This family. The one he chose to be a part of. Brought Jack into. You’re both kind of… you know. Protective dad type. Self-sacrificing.”

“Well.” He swallows. Leans back against the wall. “Guess this time he outdrew me.”

“So where’s this leave us? We need that book open and we’re out of options.”

“Where’s it leave us?” He can’t handle the shift in conversation, doesn’t know how to begin to put himself back together, resents Sam a little for asking now, for cracking him open and then asking him to be functional again. “ _Screwed_. I’m sure Chuck’s ready to make a move.”

And what do they do when he does? He’s still working on convincing himself there’s even a point, and the best he can come up with now is that he’d be throwing Cas’ life away twice if he didn’t try something. But what? He doesn’t have a whole lot of fight left in him… he doesn’t know how he’s still living.

His phone rings, and he resents that, too, doesn’t know what the hell Jack’s got to call him about or where from, doesn’t _want_ to know if it isn’t Jack, because that means it’s Chuck, which they are woefully unprepared to deal with.

_Cas_.

“What?” He stares at it, numb for a moment, helpless. Unless Jack has Cas’ phone somehow, but why the hell would Jack call him from Cas’ phone, wouldn’t he know--?

No. Of course he wouldn’t. And Sam, Sam barely summons up a casual interest because he can’t see Dean’s phone screen, doesn’t know that this is a fucking knife between the ribs, isn’t something sharp and not nearly deadly enough lodged in his heart.

He answers. He can’t not.

“Cas?” He asks, cautious, and that gets Sam’s focus.

“ _Dean_.” One syllable, soft but emphatic, that’s all it takes to make his guts twist up inside him, that’s all it takes to push his heart up into his throat. “I’m here… I’m _hurt_. Can you let me in?”

He sounds hurt. He sounds ragged, exhausted, like escaping from the Empty cost him, but how? How could he have…? Dean doesn’t even _answer_ , he just leaps to his feet and takes the stairs at a run, practically flies to the door before his brain can kick in, and even when it does…

Well, even when it does, it’s too late.


	2. Soften My Dreams With Your Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's POV chapter
> 
> Chuck's been kicked to the curb, the lark's on the wing, the snail's on the thorn, Jack's in his heaven, all's right with the world... except, of course, for Dean.
> 
> Things are very much not all right with Dean. And the last thing Sam expects is for Cas to come and fix it.

The world is back. Chuck’s just a guy, doomed to what everyone, more or less, gets. Everyone’s okay, Bobby and Charlie and everyone, _Eileen_ is safe… 

Dean?

Dean is destroyed.

Sam doesn’t know how to fix this. He knows it’s bad… he knows Cas is gone, the one place Dean can’t get him back from. He’d thought Dean handled it badly the last time, but this…

_Dean had never reminded Sam so strongly of their father, as he did then. He wasn’t a carbon copy of the old man, but he was pretty bad. Ever since they lost Cas, moreso since they’d laid him to rest, Dean had just been…_

_Sam had lost track of the number of times Dean had lashed out at Jack over something that wasn’t even the poor kid’s fault. He’d stormed off after the most recent blow-up and Sam had let him have some time to cool down, before he’d started looking._

_He found him sitting in Baby’s driver seat, knocking back fireball whiskey and blasting his music, and he was on the verge of storming over to demand some better fucking behavior when he noticed Dean was crying-- like,_ ugly _-crying-- to Houses of the Holy._

_He’d spent the night in the car, despite the nearness of his precious memory foam mattress. Sam had pretended not to know where he’d been or how he’d spent his time._

_“She’s my mom, too, you know.” He said, the next morning as Dean worked his way through a pile of grease in search of a hangover cure. The little bit of hair of the dog did not escape Sam’s notice. “And you got four whole years to know her that I didn’t get, years you mostly can’t remember now, we were both getting basically the same second chance. But we don’t know that she’s gone, and even if she is, Jack didn’t kill her.”_

_Dean glared at him, bleary, took a swig of his doctored coffee._

_“I’ve had my whole life to learn how to deal with losing Mom. It still hit me like a fucking mack truck to lose her again. I’m supposed to not have feelings about her? About_ Cas _? Cas, who I-- Cas, who left a_ body _?”_

_“A body--? You wouldn’t let me help!”_

_He’d barely let Sam help with any of it-- left to his own devices, he might have done the whole damn funeral by himself. Didn’t let anyone else touch Cas’ body. He’d wrapped him alone, and carried him alone._

_“That’s not what this is about.” Dean growled._

_“Then what is this about?”_

_“This is about-- fuck it, Sam, this is about, Cas is gone and I-- I should have stopped it.”_

_Sam couldn’t follow the logic there, but then, sometimes with Dean and his hero complex, it was best not to look for any._

_“He was my friend, too. And Jack--”_

_“I don’t want to hear about_ Jack _. You know if Cas hadn’t got mixed up with the devil’s baby mama, he’d be alive right now, he’d be with-- he’d be with us like he’s supposed to be. But he’s not! He’s charred bone and ashes, and I can’t forget that.”_

_“I didn’t_ forget _\--”_

_“And the last time I saw his face it was like looking at a stranger, it was… he was… like that body wasn’t_ Cas _anymore. I couldn’t even look at his face, I couldn’t give him the goodbye he deserved, I just had to wrap him fast and… I wanted to say goodbye, do you get that? And I couldn’t, because he was gone. Because without him…”_

_Sam wasn’t sure how they’d moved from Mom to Cas, either-- Dean had had his blow-up, had gotten drunk and passed out listening to her favorite band, which had become his favorite band, which he only cared so much about because of her, Sam thought._

_“Dean…”_

_“What’s the matter with me, huh? What’s wrong with me? ‘Cause I keep losing him.”_

_“Dean, he’s-- It’s not really like that.”_

_“I can’t do it, Sammy. I can’t be Dad. Spend my whole life chasing Lucifer down… I’m not strong enough. I’m not good enough.”_

_He’d crawled into bed with another bottle not long after finishing his hangover breakfast, in the end._

He’s lying on the floor. Again. Scattered bottles. Again. 

With the fight behind them, with Chuck out of the picture and Jack ascended unto the heavens or whatever, Dean had stopped clinging to much of anything. A single moment of joy at seeing the world full again, or at least satisfaction. A genuine smile, when Sam had gotten that first confused post-Chuck text from Eileen. He’d clapped him on the shoulder and said ‘go get ‘er, tiger’ and been happy for him, sent him off to see her, and when Sam got back…

Well.

He’d left him there for a while, rolled him onto his side and focused first on cleaning the place up because it was easier than trying to move Dean. 

Dean’s a dead weight, insensate. Sam is struggling to get him up off the hard floor when his phone rings, and he lets him slump back down with a groan, answers without a glance at the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Sam? I couldn’t reach Dean.” Cas’ voice, worried. “I called several times.”

“Cas? Wait-- For real? Dean said you were-- gone-gone, man.” 

The last time Dean had gotten a call from Cas, it had been Lucifer. But then… Lucifer’s pretty gone-gone now. 

“I was. Jack restored me… _Sam, is Dean all right_?”

“I don’t know where his phone is but yeah, he’s-- Wait. Are you here?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Okay, okay, hang on.” Sam drops his phone into his pocket on his way to the door, a little cautious after the last time, but… Jack put everything else right, and even before then, Lucifer got out of the Empty. Of course, if Lucifer got out of the Empty once… But Jack’s basically God now, and why wouldn’t he save his preferred father figure? 

And if it’s something pretending to be Cas again, Sam will just… deal with it. 

Or, if he can’t, he’s pretty sure he could call on Jack to lend a hand just once, just on principle. Just because some things ought to be sacred.

It definitely looks like Cas this time, an incredibly agitated Cas. 

“I came to Earth as soon as I could, where is he?” He demands, before Sam can bring up testing him before letting him through. “Your brother prayed to me in unbelievable agony.”

“Yeah, well, he’s feeling no pain right now.” Sam rolls his eyes and steps aside. Someone else might be able to steal Cas’ voice, steal his face, but there’s not a monster or a demon out there who could summon up the same desperate, burning focus on Dean Winchester. “It’s good to see you, Cas.”

“Glad to be back.” He nods, sweeping past Sam and gliding down the stairs, all grace and speed as he makes a beeline for Dean. 

Didn’t even ask where to find him, once he was inside. Sam’s not sure how he does it, but he jogs after him, finds him kneeling at Dean’s side, hand to his forehead. 

“There…” He whispers, gives a sad little smile. Then, he scoops Dean up like he weighs nothing, and Sam hurries ahead to get the door to Dean’s room open, follows along and pulls Dean’s boots off as Cas gets him laid out on his bed. “He needs his rest.”

“Cas…”

“Sam.” 

Sam hugs him, hard. “Dean told me…”

“Told you?”

“The deal you made with the Empty, that it took you… that you summoned it to take Billie out with you, so he would make it. Cas… thanks. For going with him. I couldn’t have done this without him, and… And thanks, for coming back, because I was gonna miss you, brother.”

“Thank you. In the brief time I have been away, I have missed you both immensely. I trust you’re well?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He releases Cas with a slap to the back. “God, it’s… Yeah, things are… Like, a big weight is off my chest. Chuck’s gone, everyone’s back… I kinda can’t wait to see the look on my brother’s face when he wakes up and you’re here.”

Cas ducks his head, smiling. “I can wait for him to wake, now. I feared… When I felt him crying out to me, I… I was with Jack, I knew Chuck had been defeated, that when Jack left you both, you were safe and whole, and of course it was my intention to return, regardless, but… In all the times Dean has turned to me, it never… _frightened_ me so. The desperation and the… the hopelessness.”

“I’m surprised he prayed at all, he was so sure you were…”

“Gone-gone?”

“Yeah. It, uh, hit him hard.”

“Yes.” Cas sits on the edge of Dean’s bed, and rests a hand on his shoulder. “I had not realized, how painful it would be for him… but there was no other way. I did not intend… I did not know. Nor did I know I would be able to return, it… it pained me, in the Empty, to think of the pain I had caused him, to think I would never be able to…”

“Cas, you did what you did for him, he knows that, hell, I know that. You know that. He’s just gonna be glad to have you back.” Sam pats his shoulder. 

“I feared for him… I felt his desperation and I was so certain… When Jack sent me back, I landed rather far afield, so I called immediately, but...”

“He probably let his battery die.”

“I feared for his _life_.” Cas admits, the emotion coming through in his voice. Cas and emotions is always kind of a weird thing, always one step removed from normal, but Sam’s known him long enough to recognize them, and to recognize when they’re _strong_.

“Hey… hey, don’t-- I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. Granted, I didn’t expect him to drink himself into a coma when I left, or I wouldn’t have gone, he seemed… you know. It was hitting him hard, but he seemed okay. He wasn’t putting on an act for me-- I didn’t think he was putting an act on for me-- when he told me he wanted me to go out with Eileen.”

“No, of course not. I have no doubt he did want you to.”

“Well, he didn’t say it was so he could get blackout drunk alone.”

“Sam.” Cas looks up at him. “Your happiness is very important to your brother, you know that. He didn’t want you to leave him to drink in secret, he wanted you to spend time with the love you feared you had lost, and had returned to you. Although… likely he did wish to grieve without troubling you. I have removed it from his system. And… healed a small amount of damage. But he does need the rest, it seems he has not had natural sleep in some time.”

“Yeah. Not since… well. You know. He’s gonna be thrilled. He’s gonna be thrilled to have you back.”

Cas smiles, at that, looks back to Dean. His hand moves from Dean’s shoulder to his cheek. 

He speaks, in a language Sam doesn’t know, or not well-- there’s something half-familiar in it, but it’s not something he can translate on the fly-- might be something he would know if he saw it in writing, but damned if he can figure out what it is.

When his hand returns to Dean’s shoulder, Dean stirs, just slightly, and so Sam stands back quietly and watches. He must have heard them talking, Cas’ voice must have broken through to him in his sleep, spurred him to try and claw his way back to wakefulness. Watches the gentleness with which Cas murmurs to him, watches the way he gives up on encouraging Dean to sleep, with that achingly familiar look of fond consternation. It’s a look he’s given Sam and Jack on occasion, but Dean gets it the most.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas says, apparently sensing the moment the threshold between sleep and wakefulness is crossed. 

Dean’s eyes fly open, he pushes himself to sit. Sam had expected a wide, happy grin, maybe a punch to the shoulder before the hug, a growly ‘never do that again’, laughter and a few hotly denied tears. He had not expected this-- the way Dean launches himself into Cas, the way he just falls apart, dissolving into tears he doesn’t bother to pretend he’s not crying.

“ _Cas_ …” He croaks, squeezing the angel hard, face buried against his shoulder. 

“Dean…”

“This is one hell of a cruel dream, if--”

“No. I’m here. I’m here. I tried to call you…”

Dean’s head snaps up, his expression pure anguish. “What?”

“When Jack… restored me, so to speak. I called--”

“You?” He cups Cas’ face in his hands, still desperate. “I thought-- I thought--”

“That I was gone-gone, is I believe how Sam put it, when I reached him.” Cas nods to Sam, and Dean whips around to look at him.

At which point Sam really feels like this is, or should be, a more private reunion. But he should probably be the one to clarify something before he does bow out, because it’s just hit him what the real problem must have been.

“When you were, uh… gone. Gone-gone.” He coughs. “Dean got a fake call. Lucifer, using your voice to get let in.”

“Your name came up on the screen and…” Dean adds, but can’t finish. Cas’ hand is back at his cheek.

“Oh.”

“Cas, I--”

“No, no… of course. No apologies necessary, Dean. I’m only afraid I was not very composed, when Sam first let me in.”

“Speaking of Sam.” He shifts his weight, one foot to the other. “He’s gonna get out of your hair and let you… catch up. If you need me, I’ll be with books. Doing book things. Reading, is what I’m going to go do.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas smiles at him. Dean is buried in his shoulder again, and he looks…

He looks happy.


	3. Hold Me Each Evening At Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas' POV
> 
> He and Dean finally get to really talk about things they said-- or started to say.
> 
> They also get to do a little more than just talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just a little foreplay here-- but Dean's second POV chapter will get there)

With Sam making his exit, Castiel turns back to Dean, taking in ever detail of the man he loves. Drinking in the love that radiates from him now, a love he’d been so blind to. 

Even walking in his dreams now and then, he had left him some privacy. The sanctity of his private thoughts and feelings. There were things he couldn’t help but pick up on, yes, even moments which led him to hope against hope that there might be something there, but he never did pry, not about those thoughts. Those feelings. 

But now…

“I might’ve thrown it.” Dean sniffs. “Um, my phone. When I thought…”

“Thought it was another trick. I understand.”

“God, Cas, I-- I thought I’d never… I thought I…”

“Yes.” He wipes gently at Dean’s tears, feels a couple of his own slip free. Finds himself grinning when Dean reaches up to return the favor. “I never dared hope, that I could find my way back to you. Even with the chaos in the Empty, I… Oh, _Dean_ , I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re here. What else matters?”

“I hurt you. Caused you to take on guilt for what happened. But that choice was mine to make. I was prepared… I was prepared for everything, except to hear that you…”

“I love you.” Dean nods. “And you can have me. And… you’ve changed me, too. God, so much more than I could say… So much more. I’m just… I’m just some _guy_ , you know? I’m just… I’m just some lousy bum who, who got lucky exactly once in his life. Afterlife. ‘Cause I got you. And you were gonna… just send me on my way and do your own thing and… but you kept coming back for me. You kept coming back for me and I got to… to relying on it. Not because you were a big gun I could pull out, because you were my friend. And… and it got to be I didn’t know what to do with myself, if you didn’t… if I couldn’t… I just wanted you there. Wanted you to stay. I guess I always knew you couldn’t. You had your own stuff… stuff you had to do, places you were needed when I didn’t really need you. But I wanted you.”

“I hardly think you are ‘just some lousy bum’. But I wish I had known… I wish I had known.”

“Now you know.” Dean shrugs. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He laughs, just being able to say it and hear it, hear it and say it back. The _lightness_ it fills him with! “Dean… come here.”

Dean moves into his lap, wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders. He winds his own around Dean’s waist in return, revels in the weight of him, the nearness, the solidity of his flesh. There is such a comfort in holding him. There has always been…

_It wasn’t something he was allowed, comfort._

_Safety._

Love _._

_There were a million reasons to put an abrupt and definite end to this thing, to this dangerous fascination, this poison love. There were a million reasons why Castiel ought to have behaved differently, and he still ought…_

_Ought not wrap his arms around one Dean Winchester, and feel keenly that he would like not to let him go._

_Of course it’s exactly what he did. He was weak, he always had been._

_He’d held Dean’s soul in his hands once, he’d woven him back together and restored his life and known him so deeply and so intimately during that act of reconstruction that there was nothing else for it. For a while he had been able to posture, some, it had helped when Dean made things between them something verging on adversarial. Made it easier to respond in kind, to be without the infinite kindness and patience and mercy with which humans liked to imagine angels were imbued. To be as he was made to be, cold, demanding, a soldier._

_Inside, it was too late even then._

_Dean had been raised that way, to be cold. Demanding. A soldier. Do as he was told, protect the weak, hunt down abominations, watch his brother, be obedient to his father. Raised so that he could barely remember a time before he was learning how to kill._

_That wasn’t him, it wasn’t fair. A man with so much heart, broken and embittered by the weight of expectation, being treated as a living weapon and not a boy, not a man. Treated as if he didn’t know emotions, when to survive he had learned to hide them, known better than to ask questions, express doubts,_ argue _._

_And Castiel saw some fractured reflection of himself in that soul. He had felt a longing, not_ for _Dean, not yet. Only a longing to let himself be known as he knew, only a longing to let their similarities connect them._

_He had let it make him foolish. He didn’t know what else to call it but foolishness, believing Dean could perceive his true voice. Why? Just because he wanted it? Of course he had needed a vessel to communicate with him, but he had wanted so badly, so badly that it ached in him, for Dean to be special. For it to be safe to show himself, perhaps not his whole self but parts of himself._

_Well… he’s done that now. Not his true form or his true voice, he’d learned his lesson on the voice._

_They’ve known each other now… for Dean it must have seemed like such a long time to know a person. It was the equivalent of a heartbeat to Castiel, and yet that brief time together had changed him so much. Made him_ alive _in ways he feared dwelling too deeply on._

_It was wrong of him to allow himself to be comforted by Dean’s embrace. He put the man in danger, their reunion should never have come to pass, he had been sure… and yet, there they were. And he was helpless to resist. It would be useless to fight now, now that Dean had found him again. Now that Castiel was in the circle of his strong arms, awash in his relief and his joy at having reunited. He was a danger to him, and he ought to send him far away, and beg him to forget… but he could only hold on tight, to the man he loved._

“Stay.” Dean whispers, resting their foreheads together. “Stay with me.”

“Always.” Cas promises him. “Dean, always.”

“That’s all I want, you know? It’s always been-- and I never should have made you go. I never should have… when you’re all I want. I just never thought… you know? I just never thought.”

“I know. Believe me, I didn’t think, either. That we could… have this.”

“It’s what I always meant to say… never could. That I love you. And I’d say you were like a brother to me because… because I couldn’t admit it to myself, that you weren’t, for a long time, and once I accepted it, I still… you know? I still didn’t want to face it head on. I just hoped you’d at least figure out that meant I wanted you around. That I’d do anything… I’d do anything to keep you. And I could say I needed you, but that wasn’t it. I mean it wasn’t a lie. I did, I do. But maybe I let you think I needed you because you were useful and I didn’t if you weren’t, and that’s pretty shitty, when I’ve only always just… I need _you_ , Cas. I need you because you’re my best friend. I need you because you keep me sane sometimes. I need you because no one else makes me feel this way. I need you because if I never knew you, I-- Well, I know where I’d be. Hell. But, you know. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be in a good place even if I wasn’t, without you.”

He tilts up, at that, for a first kiss. Feels Dean’s lips soft against his own, feels the surprise and the pleasure as their mouths find a mutual home. 

“It would have been worth it… forgive me, my death would have been worth it, for you. Forgive me, it always will be.”

“Uh-uh. Nope. Not fucking doing that again. I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, Cas, you don’t get to die on me.”

“I will try very hard, then.” He smiles, and kisses Dean softly. Sweetly. “I have been granted… considerably more power than I once had. So I am likely to survive, if I must place myself between you and death yet again.”

“Maybe… maybe you don’t.” Dean leans into him again, runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Maybe I walk away from this life. Go somewhere quiet. I-- I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know, Chuck’s not writing my story anymore. And you’re here. And I… I want things. Things hunters don’t always get.”

“Peace. You deserve that. I should like to experience it with you.”

“Hardly know what I’d do with myself, but… I wanna try. I don’t wanna go out because I didn’t know when to pack it in, because I didn’t want to admit I was slowing down. I want to retire when I still have enough life left to live. I wanna figure out what I love and do it. Mechanic, maybe. I’m good with cars, good with fixing things. Fixing things feels good.”

“That sounds like a good life, fixing things. I… I will have to return to fixing things, myself. With Jack, I mean. It’s a big job dealing with everything that’s been wrong in Chuck’s heaven, and he’s so young… and so afraid of making mistakes that would hurt the souls in his care there. Perhaps… when you find yourself with a job, I will keep the same working hours as you do? We could… come home together?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d-- Yeah.”

“Time works differently there, but I’ll know when you’re ready for me to come home… all you have to do is talk to me.”

“Yeah? You’ll drop your work upstairs to come home to me, what, just any time I ask?”

“Every time you ask.”

“Oh. Cool, cool.” Dean swallows, his tone very un-cool. The poor, dear man, he still doesn’t really believe that he deserves this love… this devotion.

It will be a pleasure and a privilege to hammer the lesson home.

“You are my priority. I… I would like to act on that now. And… when my work is complete and things are running smoothly without me, I would like to… I would like to grow old, with you. Live out the rest of a mortal life. Know that when it’s over, something just as good waits for us, know that our family is going to be complete one day. Until then… we might try and have a little bit of paradise here on earth.”

“Is that a come-on?”

“It can be.” He chuckles, trailing fingertips up Dean’s back. “We are free now… I confess a certain eagerness, to meet your every desire.”

“Every desire, huh?” 

“Oh, yes. Allow me to make up, for having worried you? Allow me… to fulfill you?”

Dean looks at him, eyes wide, pupils widening. He licks his lips, and Cas’ attention strays to them. Pink. Full. And now, he knows the sweetness in them… he wants them, again and again, opening against his own, wants to feel the heat of it… To welcome each other in a kiss, he wants that so strongly it’s all he can do to wait to claim it. Still, he waits, for a clearer sign.

Dean gives it-- a flicker of his own gaze down to Castiel’s mouth, a flutter of his eyelashes and a heavy-lidded gaze. Just the slightest tilt, leaving the last gap between them for Cas to bridge. As clear an invite as you could get.

It’s all sweetness, warmth, only the gentlest sparks beginning to ignite where they touch. He’s not sure who moans first, it feels simultaneous. It’s pulled out of him when Dean’s hands tighten in his coat, when he presses closer, closer…

“Am I…” Dean breaks away, catches his breath, their foreheads together again. “Am I the first guy you’ve done this with?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh. Yeah-- yeah, I guess… I guess that makes sense.”

“My previous experiences were… It took me some time to develop a sense for gender, in the human sense of it. I did not initially have a preference.”

“Hey, man, I get that. Ugh… sorry, it’s weird that I just called you ‘man’ in the middle of making out, isn’t it? I just mean, you know… who needs a preference? Guys can be hot, girls can be hot… cosmic entities who don’t have a human sense for gender can be hot.”

“That’s all right.” He laughs. “I have developed a preference. However, I have not explored it.”

“Oh, no kidding? You’re more into the dudes?”

“I am wholly and entirely into _you_. So, I suppose it is not inaccurate to say… It took me time to develop a sense of my own gender as well. I find… I like having one. I like being a man, I like that you are a man. I don’t require any labels, for myself. I am content with whatever you find comfortable, when it comes to explaining us to other people… I am content knowing I am to you, as you are to me, between ourselves.”

“Great, all right.” Dean shifts in his lap, he feels sparks again. “Take off your coat and stay a while?”

“Just my coat?”

He leans back enough to give Cas a grin-- delight, mischief, surprise, interest, pleasure, happiness-- and a sweeping look. 

“Why, who would have expected such a suggestion from an angel of the Lord?”

“When I am with you, I am yours first. I certainly do not belong to he who made me.”

“That’s some spicy blasphemy.” Dean bobs his eyebrows. “First I dethroned god, now I’m about to get myself touched by an angel, I’m having a real week.”

Cas grins back at him, his hands making a firm sweep from just above Dean’s waist down his thighs. Back up again, to his hips and then around to his ass. It would be better without the heavy denim in the way, but it still makes Dean sigh and rock into his touch. Still makes his head tip back, throat bared to be kissed. The impulse is irresistible and Cas does not try to resist it. He kisses him, tastes his hot pulse, the familiar musk of his skin, never before experienced so… carnally.

“If you would like me to get undressed, my dearest, you will have to let me stand up.”

“Boo.” Dean groans, his hand is firm in Cas’ hair, holding him to his throat now. “You really telling me you can’t use all that new juiced-up angel mojo to ditch both our clothes?”

“I could… it is an incredible waste of my powers.” He says, between slow kisses, and a light scrape of his teeth across soft, warm skin. He drags his tongue higher, until he feels the rasp of stubble. “And I think it would be more fun to use my hands on you.”

“Oh, use your hands on me.” The sound he makes is low and tempting, something between another groan and a laugh, and he grinds down into Cas’ lap. “Yeah, that sounds _real_ good, honey. Use those hands on me.”

“ _Wanton_.” Cas’ smile is languid, his eyes heavy-lidded, and he pushes the flannel shirt down from Dean’s shoulders. “I never dreamed… not for me. Not for me…”

“ _All_ for you.” His hands cover Cas’, guide them in moving over his chest, through the worn henley. It’s a soft green, it brings out his eyes… hugs him, thin and close-fitting. Not tight, just… close. “Do you know how long it’s been since I even looked at anyone else?”

He shakes his head, awe tinging his gaze as he slowly works his hands up underneath Dean’s shirt. There are scars, from the past dozen years, ones he wasn’t there to heal away in time… and some he ought to have healed, why didn’t he? There’s a sadness at the thought of Dean in pain, at the thought of injuries he’d gritted his teeth through and patched up alone, ones which healed badly because he couldn’t let himself _rest_ … but there’s a beauty in them, they mark him as a survivor. A hero. They tell a story of his strength, and his constant willingness to put himself in front of danger, if it might save others. His family, yes, and his friends, but strangers, too. They mark him as resilient… beautifully stubborn in the face of all life had thrown at him.

And the skin between them is smooth, and the flesh beneath is firm… but there’s some give, there are places where he can squeeze and feel the yield of him, where a little softness now protects the muscle beneath. His body has changed, since Cas once reconstructed him, once lovingly reknit bone and sinew and muscle and skin to house a righteous soul… how wonderful that he should be able to seek out surprises in this body he once knew to the atom. What a gift to be able to discover him anew.


End file.
